


doing it the hard way

by asbestosgang



Category: Red Letter Media, RedLetterMedia RPF, redlettermedia
Genre: Angry Sex, Beer, Come Swallowing, Gay, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, angry gay men this time, hell yeah beer tag, jay is a spicy bottom, there's like a lot of come, they're in love and mad about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asbestosgang/pseuds/asbestosgang
Summary: Jay is in love, and--spoiler alert--it all works out in the end. But, as per fanfiction standard, he has to have incredibly rough and hot sex with the person of interest first. And that's really what we're here for, isn't it?
Relationships: Mike Stoklasa/Jay Bauman, Mike/Jay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	doing it the hard way

Jay had been in love with Mike for a very long time, to his own dismay. If he had to explain why, it was because being around him made everything feel less miserable...somehow. Even the fact that they were stuck in a shitty VCR repair shop didn’t seem that bad. Not when they were together. He felt almost okay when he was around Mike, like maybe he could be happy, every now and then. Sometimes he even felt his heart flutter when their eyes met (or maybe he just had arrhythmia. Personally, he’d prefer the latter).

On the other hand, Mike was also annoyingly attractive for no discernible reason, leading Jay to constantly imagine getting his brains fucked out of him by Mike’s cock, leaving scratches on his back, getting bruised and beaten and broken up into pieces...by some nerdy asshole who was overly invested in Star Trek lore. Ridiculous, right?

And if that wasn’t enough, sometimes he just fuckin’ hated the guy. For good reason! After all, Mike had tried to get him to marry an old dingy war criminal in a weird get-rich-quick scheme (except it wasn’t quick at all). Okay, technically, Jay had agreed to it, and he did want the money, don’t get him wrong, but it made him feel like an exaggerated prostitute—and he didn’t even get paid in the end! Plus, Mike had been super weird about planning the wedding. He’d been so involved, every step of the way, going to a lot of effort for what Jay thought was just a swindle. Jay had even heard him saying the vows alone in the shop once, like he was Mr. Plinkett. Weirdo. He really would’ve preferred that they never went through with any of it in the first place, even if it meant they never made any money.

How was Jay supposed to tell Mike he was in love with him when he was busy getting married to someone else?

Since he couldn’t answer that question, Jay gave up on the issue entirely. Which was okay. In the end, it probably didn’t matter that he never told him, and never planned to. Mike was dense as hell, and also very straight—last time Jay checked, he didn’t have tits. From the beginning, he never had a chance. 

Until he did. 

And he took it, hard. 

It was another slow day. It always was. Nobody needed a VCR repaired, Jay supposed. Did anybody even own a VCR anymore? 

He was holding a beer in one hand (on his seventh now) and tuning Mike out while he droned on about some sort of Star Trek shit. Usually, he would listen, or at least pretend to, and they would sit there, content with just each other’s company. But Jay was too drunk to tolerate Mike’s ramblings, and now he was thinking about the whole fiasco with Mr. Plinkett and getting mad all over again.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick.”

Silence. Mike had a shocked expression on his face, which he quickly covered up with a lazy grin.

“Am I boring you?”

“Yes,” Jay said honestly.

“Too bad. I have to listen to you talk about weird niche horror movies and you have to listen to me talk about Star Wars. That’s the deal.”

Oh, so it was Star _Wars_ this time. Oops. And when had they come to that agreement, anyways?

“That’s a shitty deal. And I wasn’t even talking about that,” Jay shook his head.

“Then what’re you talking about?”

“In general. You’re just a dick.”

Mike almost looked a little hurt.

“Takes one to know one.”

Weak. Mike was off his game today, his eyes a little glassy. Probably because he was drunk—well, drunker than he usually was. Not that Jay could talk, as he took another swig of beer.

“I’m not the one who set my friend up to marry a gross old codger,” he griped. 

“You’re still upset about that?”

Jay bristled. Could Mike _be_ any dumber?

“Of course I’m upset! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mike rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat.

“Oh, fuck off. You agreed to it, and anyways, you probably fucked him.”

There was something strange in Mike’s voice—the way it pitched up, got a little quieter at the end, like he’d tried to keep himself from saying it, but the words had spilled out anyways, coarse and strange. It was such a weird thing to say, stunning Jay so much that he didn’t have a witty response prepared.

“What—what’re you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, you probably sucked him off in his stupid green chair, didn’t you? What’d he taste like?” Mike chirped, and it could’ve sounded like a joke—it was probably meant to, but his eyes were dark and his voice tense. He was upset, for some reason or another. But Jay didn’t care about why, too busy being offended that Mike thought he could stoop so low. He could, and had, but still, it was rude. 

“Fuck off,” was all he said, wanting to shut the conversation down. Mike stood up suddenly, moving to stand in front of him, staring down at him—concentrating, as if to get a good look at his expression.

“So you’re not denying it?” Mike asked, dropping the facade, because he’d been shit at keeping it up anyways. He definitely wanted to know. But the question was why. Why did he care? What did he really want? What the hell was he doing? Jay didn’t know, but he was too furious to ask, his heart pounding and fists clenching as everything hit him at once; the false wedding, Mike’s accusations, the way he was so in love it hurt and he couldn’t stop it even though it was meaningless. He wanted to throw it all away, burn it all down, leave it all behind, pretend none of it never existed.

But he couldn’t, so instead he just yelled at Mike. 

“What the hell’s your problem? What, are you fucking jealous? What do you want to hear? Yeah, sure, I had the best orgasm of my goddamn life when I fucked Harry! Is that it? He was fucking great! Are you happy now? It was your fucking fault, anyways! If you want to take responsibility, I’ll call you next time, you can come fucking watch!”

A flush struck across Mike’s cheeks, like he’d been slapped on both sides. He looked angry, embarrassed, surprised at the fire in Jay’s voice. He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

So he didn’t, lunging forward and smashing their lips together. Jay could taste the beer on his tongue as Mike kissed him clumsily, his hand gripping the back of his head, and he kissed back even though this all felt insane because he’d wanted this, wanted Mike, for so goddamn long that it pissed him off to think about.

This was the dumbest thing he’d ever done. So he might as well go all the way. 

Jay bit down hard on Mike’s bottom lip, and he shouted, pulling away.

“Wh-what the fuck—“

“Rougher.”

He’d wanted it to be an order, but it came out like a plea, desperate, maybe because he was. He couldn’t take soft and warm, not now. Jay wanted to burn up. He wanted violence, screaming, and a rush at the end that would knock him out so he didn’t have to feel anything anymore, because he was in love and Mike wasn’t and he didn’t know how else to handle it. This was as good as it was going to get, so it had better be the best sex he’s ever had. 

If he couldn’t have Mike’s heart, he could at least have his fucking dick.

Mike’s face broke into a cruel grin, blood seeping through the cut in his lip. 

“Fine, you fucking whore.”

He kissed him again, aggressive and rough, making Jay moan. Mike was damn good with his tongue, way better than a VCR repairman had any right to be, and Jay pulled him closer, as close as he could get him until Mike got the message and pinned him to the chair. Jay’s hands were gripping Mike’s collar, and he felt Mike’s hand against his thigh, pushing his legs open, slipping himself between them. His other hand had slipped under his shirt, tracing up against his chest, his thumb and forefinger pinching Jay’s nipple, enough to make him gasp. Mike pulled back, grinning, his breath uneven.

“Like that, don’t you?”

Jay scowled, annoyed at the interruption and the way Mike’s voice made his body grow hot. 

“God, just shut up and fuck me.”

He sounded confident, but the tent in his pants betrayed his desperation. He surged forward to kiss Mike again, and he let him, his hand moving from Jay’s thigh to stroke at his erection.

“Shit,” Jay muttered. They were so close together, Mike’s tongue tangled up with Jay’s, and someone was moaning—maybe it was Jay, or Mike, or both of them—as Jay reached up and stroked Mike’s face, feeling his stubble against his fingers, and Mike smiled at him, a genuine smile that felt out of place here, soft and warm and a little nervous, like he actually liked him and that this *wasn’t* just a momentary, horny lapse of judgement that he would regret immediately afterwards.

Bullshit.

Jay forced the thought away, focusing on Mike’s soft lips against his own, his body pressed against him, in between Jay’s legs that were wrapped around him now, desperately trying to keep him close, not just because he was humping him like an excited dog, but also because he knew he was never going to get the chance to be this close to him ever again. Both of Mike’s hands were wandering across his chest, exploring tentatively, like Jay was fragile, like he was afraid of hurting him.

He wasn’t allowed to do that.

“Don’t pussy out,” Jay warned, and Mike huffed, biting at Jay’s lips as he pinched his nipples again, causing him to groan. Mike was breathing heavily now, his face flushed and eyes glazed, lips red as he pulled back to look at him. Jay blushed, wanting to tell him to get on with it but afraid that it was over now, that Mike had suddenly come to his senses.

He hadn’t.

Mike turned his attention to Jay’s neck, biting down hard and making Jay buck in his seat.

“Fuck! Ah—you broke skin, idiot,” Jay huffed in a weak facsimile of anger, the pain burning through him making him lightheaded in the best possible way.

“Shut up, asshole, this is what you wanted,” Mike grumbled, licking and sucking at the wound like a silent apology anyways. To get back at him, Jay bucked his hips right up against Mike’s erection. He let out a broken groan. Curious, Jay did it again, hearing him almost whimper, his face buried in the crook of Jay’s neck, breathing heavily against his skin. When he didn’t move for a second, Jay wondered if he was okay. Then Mike yanked Jay off his chair, spinning them around so they’d switched positions, tugging him so close Jay could see the cut he’d left in Mike’s lip.

“Suck my dick.”

“Is that an order or an insult?” Jay quipped, licking his lips. Mike gave him a vicious smile.

“Both.”

He shoved Jay off of him, down onto his knees, a sloppy grin on his face that betrayed his excitement. Jay raised an eyebrow nonchalantly, but he was holding his breath, waiting to see what Mike would do. Sure enough, he was impatient, and unzipped his pants on his own, tugging them down and letting them fall to his ankles. He usually wore baggy pants, so Jay hadn’t noticed before, but now he saw that Mike’s bulge was huge in his underwear as he leaned up to trace a finger across it.

“Someone’s excited.”

“Seriously. You’re that desperate to suck me off?” Mike cooed, and Jay rolled his eyes, tugging his boxers off—and freezing.

Hang on. It was bigger than Jay’s, goddamnit, and he was sure Mike was going to make fun of him for it. It was...it was actually too big. It was kind of intimidating, though he’d never admit it out loud.

“Is...something wrong?” Mike asked, looking nervous. Jay let out a stunned sigh that was neither a yes nor a no, and Mike’s bravado came crumbling down.

“I-if I did something—I mean, you don’t have to—I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—“

“Stop,” Jay managed to shake his head, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”

He was, sort of. He’d just never seen anything like it before—and he’d seen a lot of them. Frankly, he wasn’t sure it was even going to fit where he wanted it to.

But he sure as hell was going to give it the old college try.

“Are you sure? I-if you don’t want to—“ Jay pressed his lips to the tip of Mike’s cock, and he shut up. There was no way Jay was going to be able to take all of him in his mouth, so he focused on stroking it up and down with his hand while his tongue worked on the tip. Mike was watching him, his eyes wide and face red, fascinated, a filthy, perverted smile dancing across his face. He looked like Jay had imagined he would—no, he looked better. Fuck. Not wanting to let him get away clean, Jay let his teeth graze Mike’s skin, watching him squirm.

“Fuck. Y-you did that on purpose.”

He did.

Jay pulled off, still pumping his cock to a lazy rhythm.

“I’m sorry I’m not a blowjob expert, asshole.”

He wasn’t sorry, but he was, to an extent, according to some men at a certain gay bar, an expert. Mike clicked his tongue, trying to look annoyed, but the haze in his eyes (from alcohol or arousal, Jay couldn’t decide) seemed to dilute his irritation.

“Want me to stop?” Jay teased, lifting his fingers away until just his forefinger and thumb were circled around Mike’s dick.

“No, just do better,” Mike fired back, and Jay licked up the side of his shaft, shutting him up again. Damn. He should do this more often, if just to get Mike to stop talking.

Jay started to stroke him faster, his mouth returning to sucking on the tip. Carefully, he eased himself downwards, taking in more and more and hearing Mike groan above him, nonsense and vulgar words flooding into the air. It was music to his ears, and his own erection throbbed painfully in response. He only managed to get about halfway down before his gag reflex stopped him, and he had to pull back up. Mike huffed out a laugh.

“Looks like I’m bigger than Plinkett.”

He was. By a mile.

Jay pulled off again, glaring at him.

“Why do you care, seriously? You got some sort of complex or something?”

“Oh, so you _have_ sucked his dick?”

“God, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

Jay didn’t like thinking about it. It’s not like he did it on purpose, it just...happened. Jay had a little too much to drink with the wrong company (read: a perverted old man), and ended up sucking Mr. Plinkett’s shitty micropenis that smelled weird. Nothing else happened. It wasn’t sexy at all, mostly just inconvenient. Jay was lucky he didn’t manage to contract mouth herpes or something, because of course the old fuck didn’t have any condoms. He probably wouldn’t have done it at all sober. He didn’t even like remembering it. And he certainly didn’t want to talk about it. 

So why the hell did Mike keep bringing it up?

“I just wanted to know what you two lovebirds did—“

“You seem to be forgetting that it was all your idea in the first place.”

Mike didn’t seem to be able to come up with a snappy quip to that one. So instead, he just shoved his dick down Jay’s throat.

Tears sprung into his eyes, and he breathed frantically through his nose, trying not to choke to death on Mike’s gigantic cock—though he wouldn’t mind going out like that (just not right now). His hands had a death grip on Mike’s thighs, leaving dents in the skin as Mike thrust in and out of his throat slowly, dragging his length out until Jay’s tongue could wrap around the tip before shoving it back in again, causing him to moan around it. 

“You know, Jay—“ Mike’s voice was tight, biting back his own moans. “I started to wish I hadn’t suggested it, wh—ah, fuck—after a while.”

Jay wanted to say something, but couldn’t, what with Mike’s cock shoved in his mouth and all.

“I mean, shit! I...I just thought, uh—it was about the money—ahhh, but, ah—that f-fucking idiot, he was—I should’ve...fuck! Why him?” Mike managed to spit out in between his rough, breathless groaning as he tore Jay’s throat up. He was nearing his edge, his voice getting shaky and eyes unfocused. Jay liked that expression a little too much, kneading his palm against his own bulge just to relieve some of the pressure. 

“All, a-all of it—fuck, Jay, you’re s-so good—all of it just for that stupid f-fucking wedding. But—ah—you looked so...you were so...” he whispered, his breath sharp, words slurred. Unable to properly respond, Jay just hummed, trying to prompt Mike to finish the sentence, because, well, he wanted to know. 

Apparently that was a bad move, because Mike’s body stiffened up, his hands clenching Jay’s hair so tightly he winced, before they relaxed, and Mike slumped down in the chair as Jay felt a warm liquid rush down his throat and fill his mouth before he could pull away. A few remaining drops splattered onto his cheek and chin, and he glanced around for a trash can or something to spit it all into. He could taste it, wallowing on his tongue, sour and tangy and a poor thing to mix with beer.

Before he could stand up to spit it out, Mike placed his hand on the top of his head, ruffling his hair. He’d already tugged his pants back up—but hadn’t bothered to button them, Jay noticed. He glared up at him, and Mike grinned.

“Swallow it.”

Jay’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. Absolutely not. He couldn’t—it didn’t matter if it was Mike’s, there was just...too much of it. 

“Hey, I’m—I’m the one in charge, now, you little shit, so—” Jay blinked in surprise, and Mike sneered. He wasn’t exactly wrong; Jay had kind of pushed him into taking control. But now he was getting cocky, and he had to be taken down a peg. Launching upwards, Jay smashed their lips together, and when Mike tried to say something in protest, he opened his mouth. The come spilled out from his lips, flooding onto Mike’s tongue.

“Mm—gh! Ffgh—blegh!” Mike nearly fell out of the chair trying to get away, his own semen falling from his mouth down his chin and dripping onto his shirt. 

“How’s it taste, asshole?” Jay snapped, subtly swallowing what was left in his mouth—that much was manageable, and kind of sexy. Mike looked disgusted, trying not to gag as he frantically wiped his mouth.

“Way to ruin a fucking orgasm,” he grumbled, but he reached out and wiped away the stray drops of come on Jay’s face—just a little too gently.

“Oh, boo hoo. I’m soooo sorry,” Jay rolled his eyes.

“You’re fucking gonna be after I fuck the shit out of you,” Mike threatened as he tugged Jay upwards until they were both standing (albeit unsteadily).

“You’re gonna fuck the shit out of me?” Jay asked incredulously as he followed Mike to the back room, his erection making it difficult to walk.

“Only been wanting to since I fucking met you.”

Mike was in front of Jay, so he couldn’t see his expression. Jay prayed he wouldn’t turn around and see his cheeks a bright red, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to process what he’d just heard. Mike slammed the back room door open, revealing empty beer bottles scattered across the floor and a stained beige couch.

“Take off your fucking pants, idiot.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yeah.”

Too excited to give him attitude, Jay tugged off his shoes and socks before slowly removing his shorts, while Mike was digging around for something in the room. Eventually, he held up a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Ew. Are those even usable?”

“The condom was in my wallet, the lube is...fine.”

Mike’s face dusted pink, and Jay narrowed his eyes. 

“Have you jerked off in here before?...Recently?” He asked, becoming acutely aware of the stains on the couch, making sure not to sit on them.

“Better than a green chair. Tell me, what’s it like to fuck in that asbestos-covered shithole?” Mike retorted, slicking up his fingers. Jay felt heat rise in his cheeks as he sat down on the couch wearing only his work shirt, his erection feeling unbearably exposed.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up about it?”

“Seriously, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten mesothelioma or some—“

Mike walked back over, pausing in his vitriolic ramble to stare at Jay.

“Fuck,” he whispered in awe, and Jay fought the urge to tug his shirt down and conceal his boner.

“Spread your legs.”

Jay obeyed, his face burning. Here he was sitting almost naked on a gross, come-stained couch in the back room of a fucking VCR repair store, for God’s sake. It was strange and humiliating and he probably, no, definitely shouldn’t be doing this; but the fact that he was already leaking precum meant it was a little too late to back out now. Mike noticed and laughed, positioning himself between Jay’s open legs, his fingers dancing lazily above Jay’s cock.

“I’m not really surprised, I guess. You fuckin’ sex pervert. Scoot forward.”

Jay didn’t like that term—though it was probably the best way to describe him. Still, he moved, politely exposing his asshole to Mike like the obedient sex pervert he was—but he was making this too easy. Maybe he should fight back just a little.

“I’m not the one who gets off on my coworker fucking another man.” 

A pause. It was a good one; an educated guess that turned out to be correct, the implications of which he’d have to worry about later. It was a direct hit. He’d caught Mike off guard, which Jay should’ve learned to stop doing by now—instead of responding, Mike pushed his legs up and shoved two fingers inside.

“FUCK! God—fucking—Mike!” Jay threw his head back, the sensation of Mike’s fingers pressing against his insides making him moan. It was unfair how much better it was—way better—than anything he’d done on his own, and he hated that it was just because this was Mike, just Mike, but Mike was amazing, and Jay was horny as fuck.

“What gave you that idea?” Mike asked, seemingly unbothered as he slid his fingers out, agonizingly slow.

“Y-you, you keep bringing it—ahh, up, you—you’re obsessed—don’t—!” Jay pressed his hand to his mouth to keep from shouting as Mike pushed a third finger in. This was insane. Jay’s back arched, and he let out a sharp, drawn-out groan. He was going crazy, and Mike hadn’t even put it in yet. He wasn’t going to make it. Not even close. His head was fuzzy, and he was partially glad for it, because he didn’t want to know what he looked like, what he sounded like, how humiliatingly he was acting.

“Hey.”

“Wh-what?” Jay asked, struggling to clear his head, worried something was wrong. He sounded serious. 

“What would you do if I said I jerked off to you? Not Plinkett. Just you.”

The question was strange, and Mike’s voice even stranger, quiet, almost nervous. Jay paused, fighting the lightheaded feeling that was shutting off his brain in a feeble attempt to figure out what he meant. 

“I...I would...you’re...that’s gay?”

Mike responded by yanking his fingers out, causing Jay to yelp.

“You don’t have any room to talk, guy who’s getting fingered.”

Despite the ecstasy flooding through him, he remembered that he was supposed to be angry.

“You...you call that fingering? I could s-shove a screwdriver up my ass and come quicker.”

Jay glared at Mike, but the effect was diluted, seeing as his legs were spread wide open, his asshole was slick with lube, and his cock was twitching desperately for release. Mike pursed his lips, possibly in an attempt to not laugh.

“I’m sorry I’m not used to fingering sex perverts on couches in the back rooms of VCR repair shops, Jay. Some of us just aren’t as experienced as you.”

He drew out the word “experienced” as he pushed all three fingers back inside Jay’s ass, stretching his muscle open. Jay’s eyes fluttered shut, and he gripped the couch cushions as Mike started pumping in a slow rhythm, driving him crazy. It took a few tries—Mike was right, he wasn’t experienced—until he found Jay’s sweet spot, making him buck his hips upward, begging for something, anything.

“Mike—“ he gasped, arching his back. Mike seemed a little startled, his breath hitching.

“Uh—was that, uh—“

“Yes, yeah, so p-please, do it again,” Jay whined, and Mike let out a short moan, starting to finger him again. Jay faintly noticed that his erection had sprung back up, straining against his pants. 

“God, you’re so—you’re really—“ Mike was struggling with the words, but it’s not like Jay would’ve understood anyways, because Mike was hitting his prostate every single time, his fingers filling Jay up inside until he was singing Mike’s name in a voice full of bliss.

“Please—Mike, I’m so close, just—c-can you—“

He wasn’t able to get out a full sentence, his breath short and mind blank, but Mike seemed to get the gist, reaching out with his other hand and stroking Jay’s cock, once, twice—

Jay might’ve moaned, or screamed, or maybe just whispered Mike’s name, come splattering across his work shirt and Mike’s hand, spilling over onto the couch. His body went stiff for a moment, muscles frozen and burning all at the same time, breath ghosting out of him.

Mike seemed frozen, unsure of what to do, still holding on to Jay’s dick, left with a boner and his coworker’s come on his hand, which he proceeded to smear onto his work pants. Jay huffed out something resembling a laugh, managing to sit up.

“Here, l-let me...” he shifted so he was lying longways on the sofa, parting his legs so Mike could slot himself through the middle. He looked nervous, his face red and eyes wide, looking down at him.

“Um. So can I still...y’know...” Mike pantomimed the action with his hands, thrusting his pointer finger (which was still suspiciously wet) through the ring made by his other hand, and Jay laughed in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Kiss me again,” he ordered, and Mike didn’t argue, leaning down to slip their tongues together, grinding against Jay’s body, making him heat up all over again.

“Your pants are still on, idiot,” Jay murmured against his lips, and Mike just hummed, tugging his pants and boxers down with one hand, the other tracing up Jay’s cock, light enough to make him shudder, growing harder in response. Just the thought of Mike pounding into him was starting to get him excited again, and his moans got a little louder, encouraging him.

“Fuck, Jay, h-hang on, I hafta—“ his hand groped around for the condom; he’d dropped it at some point. Neither of them knew where it had fallen. 

“Just—just put it in,” Jay ordered.

Mike paused, blinking.

“Are—Are you sure—“

“Unless you’ve got fuckin’ AIDS or something, just put it in! I’m not gonna get pregnant,” Jay snapped, and Mike tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. 

“You’re that desperate?” He cooed, now in no hurry at all, and Jay realized he’d messed up—he’d gotten impatient, and now Mike had the upper hand. 

Damnit.

“You want to get destroyed on my cock that badly?” 

On any other occasion Jay would’ve punched Mike in the shoulder for saying something so stereotypically stupid, and then ignored him—but right now he just nodded, desperate to get the show on the road.

“No, no, I wanna hear you say it,” Mike sang, his voice lilting.

“Y-Yeah,” Jay mumbled, looking away, but that wasn’t enough. Mike tilted his chin upwards, guiding Jay to look at him.

“C’mon, I want you to beg.”

Mike was enjoying this, his eyes bright, watching Jay squirm; but Jay still had his dignity to fight for (sort of), remembering Mike’s weak spot. He scoffed.

“Look, Mike, if you won’t do it, I’ll just go to Harry.”

No response. Once again, he’d gotten Mike right where it hurt. And once again, instead of responding, he slammed his cock inside Jay’s asshole. Jay howled, pushing at Mike’s chest with his hands.

“Stop! Wait, wait, wait—“ Jay begged, tears in his eyes as he tried to adjust. It was too much, too fast, Jay’s legs already shaking and head spinning with the vulgar, painful pleasure of it all. Mike did stop, not as cruel as Jay thought he’d be, equally shaky, trying to catch his own breath as he stretched out Jay’s tight asshole.

“Ahh...ah, sh-should we stop?” Mike asked, and Jay weakly shook his head.

“Just g-go slow,” he whispered, and Mike’s face caught fire; Jay must’ve looked as vulnerable as he felt. “Un-until I’m, uh, used to it.”

“Uh, y-yeah, I—Okay.”

Jay groaned as he felt Mike drag his fat cock out of him until just the head was keeping him open, before pushing back in, knocking the air from Jay’s lungs. It seemed to keep going longer and deeper than should’ve been humanly possible, until Mike leaned in and kissed him, finally starting to pull back out.

“You’re so tight,” Mike huffed, eyes glazed over.

“Should I say sorry?”

“Fuck no,” he gave him that filthy smile again, picking up the pace, making Jay moan, soft and high and embarrassingly sweet. 

“D-Doing okay?” Mike asked, and Jay snorted in response, trying to play off the fact that he’d never felt so fucking good before, ever. Mike grabbed his dick, rubbing his thumb up and down the shaft as he watched the precum leak out; Jay was hard as hell again.

“God, you’re so sensitive, you’re already this close?” Mike laughed, and Jay launched up and bit his lip hard, again. He yanked backwards, hand flying up to his mouth, eyes watering.

“Goddamnit that was the same fuckin’ place as last time!” 

Jay grinned.

“God, you’re so sensitive,” he mocked, and Mike responded by slamming into him, all the way this time. Jay gasped, his body electrified, burning with an ecstatic sensation that flooded through his veins and short-circuited his brain. Mike seemed to jolt too, and everything sped up because they couldn’t wait anymore, no, no, it had to be now, now or never, and they were both so fucking desperate.

“Jay,” The loud groan escaping his mouth made Jay need his voice, his name, everything about him.

“Say it again,” he ordered sharply.

“J-Jay,” Mike whined, pulling out and sliding back in, a little smoother, making his toes curl.

“A-again—again, p-please—“ Jay begged, and Mike sped up, chanting his name to the rhythm of his thrusts, pushing in and out of Jay until neither of them could breathe. Jay felt his head go fuzzy, his legs twitching uncontrollably, his mind racing to nothing, unable to think about anything except Mike inside of him. 

“Jay, I—Jay, I love you s-so—so much, ohhhh fffffuck I love you!” Mike rambled in between heaving gasps as he fucked Jay senseless without even trying. Jay just moaned, unable to process what Mike was saying because his cock was slamming his prostate and he was losing his mind.

“M-Mike,” he whimpered, before his orgasm punched him in the gut like a professional boxer, and he might have passed out, his back arching, the wind knocked out of him.

“Are...are you okay?” Mike asked, as if he hadn’t just obliterated Jay’s capacity to think.

“Uh,” was all Jay managed to gasp, his mind reeling because he could still feel Mike’s cock pounding inside of him, stretching his body as far as it could take it, pushing him past his orgasm, not letting him recover until his eyes were tearing up and he was breathlessly whispering Mike’s name. His body sheened with sweat, and his hair was disheveled and damp as he struggled to not pass out from the overstimulation.

Mike was getting close, his body hot and sweaty against Jay, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster before he cried out, and Jay felt his come flood into his asshole, warm and unfamiliar. In the back of his head, where his reasonable thought had hidden itself while his body was overwhelmed by Mike’s dick, he realized he should’ve had him use the condom. 

Mike slumped down over Jay, chest heaving. They laid there in silence for a few minutes, both of them trying to regain consciousness. It was hot underneath him, and Jay couldn’t stop sweating, but it’s not like he minded. After all, it was Mike.

“Hey, has...has Mr. Plinkett ever...done...this?” Mike asked, almost shy, as if either of them was capable of having a proper conversation. The orgasm made Jay honest, unable to fire something snappy in response, and he simply shook his head. Mike’s character broke, and a dopey smile spread across his face.

“Oh,” his voice pitched up, hopeful, and Jay got confused again. Why did he care? 

“Why do you care?” He asked, because fuck it, they’d gone this far already. Instead of replying, Mike leaned in to kiss him chastely, like he loved him. That wasn’t an answer. Or maybe it was.

“Mike...” Jay started, his body still sensitive as his ass leaked with come. “P-pull out, you fucking asshole.”

“Shit, I—sorry,” Mike mumbled, and Jay shivered, moaning as Mike unsheathed himself, feeling strangely empty now. He fell back down on top of him, squishing him into the cushions, and Jay huffed, doing his best to look annoyed. 

“I meant it, you know.”

Jay frowned.

“Meant what?”

“What...what I said.”

“...’god, you’re sensitive’?”

“No, not—! I mean, you were, but—I meant I love you,” Mike stammered, nervously looking down at Jay. He froze. There was the answer. And it was unbelievable. More unbelievable than the fact that he was lying pantsless on a stained couch in the back room of the VCR repair shop with his best friend and coworker’s come leaking out of him. Impossible, actually. 

“I—when did you say that?” Jay managed to squeak, although that was really the last question he cared to ask.

“When I—when we—I said it,” Mike grumbled, pouting.

“You mean—you mean it?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Mike, you—is that why you were so upset about the marriage?” Jay asked, reaching up to stroke Mike’s cheek.

“...yeah.”

“It was your fuckin’ idea, y’know,” Jay huffed, slapping him lightly.

“I know! I—I fucking know!” Mike snapped, his voice a mixture of regret and anger, surprising Jay. “Damnit, you don’t think I fucking hated it? That fucking bastard. He was never worth your time, you’re fucking wasted on him! I—I never should’ve—“ 

Jay tugged Mike to him and kissed him, slipping his tongue inside his mouth and making him gasp.

“Mmph—d-don’t...cut me off,” he whined against Jay’s lips, but there was no conviction behind it, and he melted into the kiss.

“Then stop saying stupid shit,” Jay grumbled. Mike was a dumb jealous idiot, who brought all of this on himself, and everything was his fault, and Jay was going to tell him as much. But...he would admit, only to himself, that him being in love for so damn long and never saying a word didn’t make matters better, either. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to tell Mike. He’d tried, and failed, or failed before he even tried. Every time, he just didn’t know how to say it.

“Okay, get off. You’re fucking heavy.”

That wasn’t it.

“Fine, asshole,” Mike complained, shifting off of Jay and standing up on unsteady legs.

“Eughhhh, it’s all over...everything,” Jay muttered as he stared at his shirt and the couch cushions, stained with come.

“We should’ve taken off our work shirts. They’re fucked now,” Mike added, putting his pants back on. He picked up Jay’s underwear and pants, tossing them to him.

“I need a fuckin’ shower,” Jay moaned, slipping back into his clothes, trying to ignore the feeling of his own come drying on his chest and Mike’s dripping slowly down his legs.

“Jesus, the couch—“ Mike frowned, looking at the puddle of white liquid on the cushion.

“That was all you, asshole. Next time, you’re putting on a condom,” Jay snapped, before realizing what he’d said. Mike looked over at him, an inquisitive smile (bordering on smug) stretching across his face.

“Well, it was your fucking idea,” he fired back, and Jay scowled.

“Shut up, or there won’t be a next time at all.”

“Mm, I think there will. I’ll have you begging for it again.”

Jay blushed, out of snarky things to say, because the idea drove all the clever thoughts out of his head.

“Mike,” he started, stepping towards him, already at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to say it—he didn’t know what to say at all. He certainly never thought he’d be saying it in this sort of situation. All this usually came _after_ the heartfelt confession. So how did he get it across?

“I thought...uh. You were straight.”

Jay sighed, missing the mark again. Strike two. One more and he’s out. Mike snorted.

“Well, I’m—I’m _not_ ,” he replied, amused, before pausing. “But I’ve never, uh. Fucked a guy before.”

Jay blushed, surprised.

“You haven’t?”

“Nope. Was I good?” Mike grinned haughtily, because he knew the answer.

“I-I’ve had better,” Jay lied.

“Sure, sure.”

Mike’s tone said he didn’t believe him at all, and Jay hated that he was right. Really, of all the people to be in love with, it had to be this miserable bastard.

But he _was_ in love with him. And if he didn’t say it now, when would he get another chance?

Aw, fuck it. He’d seen what happens when he beats around the bush—he nearly got married to a man quadruple his age. 

“Hey,” he started, and Mike waited patiently, eyes hopeful, for a few seconds that felt like years. 

“I love you too,” Jay finally muttered. Mike’s cheeks flushed and a sheepish smile spread across his face, making him look adorable, kind of beautiful in a way—but before Jay could savor the sweet, tender moment and the heartwarming realization that the person he loved felt the same way, he watched Mike’s smile warp into a smug grin, and braced himself, because they just couldn’t have nice things. 

“I’d sure _hope_ so. After all, I did just pound your ass raw.”

Yeah, that felt like the right kind of response. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> nice. when I typed this out in another program it was exactly 6,666 words. sadly, that didn't translate to ao3 (for some reason?), so now the fic is significantly less cursed. my bad. anyways, there was sex in this one. hope you enjoyed.


End file.
